My Mother's Daughter

My mom taught me to knit when I was in high school, but it wasn't until the year before she died that I picked it up again. I was surprised at what I remember, and while I'm still not that good at it, I'm making progress (this is my first experiment with double pointed needles...something I don't think my mom ever tried.) My favorite knitting spot is in my recliner. After my mom died, I would remember her sitting in her recliner and knitting, and I would feel just like her. It was almost like I was channelling her while I worked the needles and in a lot of ways it was a comfort to me.

I'm surprised at just how much I'm like my mother. We don't look alike. She had dark brown hair, green eyes, and always tanned so beautifully. I take after my dad's side as far as coloring goes at least. However, I've managed to inherit my mother's body (although I seem to be missing out on her skinny years!), a propensity for bad knees, countless mannerisms, the way she walked, and the unflattering sounds she made getting up off the floor. My gray hair is even coming in just like hers did...temples first. I'll catch myself "being my mom" and shudder a little bit, because who really wants to be just like their mom? I never did. I loved my mom, but everyone who knew my parents, knew that my mom was the volatile one and that my dad was so easy-going and funny. I always fancied myself more like him. But sitting in my recliner, knitting in my lap, I am my mother's daughter.